


The Water

by GhostNox181



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Drowning, F/M, Post-War, Song Lyrics, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostNox181/pseuds/GhostNox181
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wish that I was stronger, I'd separate the waves, not just let the water, take me away..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Water

**Author's Note:**

> And yet another of my works being brought over from fanfiction.net. I am extremely proud of this one, not going to lie. Hope you enjoy!

The Black Lake had never actually looked black before. But today, sitting before it in nothing but jeans and a loose t-shirt, the cloudy winter sky caused the shadows in the water to darken so drastically, the water was the color of ink.

It was dead, as well. The giant squid was not seen floating about the top as it usually was, nor were there any indications that anything actually inhabited the waters. The entire surface of the lake was still, lifeless, black. And to Hermione, that was perfectly fine. After all, she was feeling just about the same.

She thought it foolish. The whole lot of those who survived the war, those who had been at Hogwarts when Harry defeated Voldemort, and parents who came to be with their children; they were all up in the Great Hall, celebrating. What's to celebrate, Hermione thought. People had died. They had lost countless loved ones, and numerous innocent lives had been shed to end this silly war. Yet they were all partying and living it up as if it had never even happened. It was a disgrace to those that had died.

It didn't matter, she supposed. Harry had Ginny, and she knew he was going to let her finish Hogwarts before he proposed. Everyone could see it, how ridiculously in love those two were. It was almost sickening. And then there was Ron. Sure, she had been caught up in the moment, caught up in not knowing whether she would live to see the next day. But she knew, he knew, everyone knew they weren't going to go anywhere. He had to watch over his family now. Mend the broken pieces, what with Fred's death, Ginny's impending marriage, and Percy's supposed apology. Not to mention Bill and Fleur, who wanted to have a small, re-do wedding. Ron had his entire family, and Harry fit right in to that.

Hermione never had. Ron had flat out hated her when they first met. Plus Harry didn't have parents, so he just slid right into the Weasley family without any problem. Hermione had parents, and so she never had that feeling of familial closeness. Now, however, she had sent her parents, her only family that knew of her predicament, off to Australia with no memory of their only daughter. With the celebrations going on, and no way to lift the memory charm, she was now truly alone.

Of course, her friends would never see that. Her friends, while loyal and endearingly fun to be around, would never see how much she wanted, what she was truly seeking in terms of companionship. They all had what they needed. She was the only one left without anyone to fall back into, to hold, to cry with, to scream at. She was the odd one out, as she had been her very first year. It seemed she had only done a huge circle, and nothing had gotten any better in between.

Hermione repressed a shiver as she stared blankly across the waters, wrapping her arms tighter around herself as she ignored the cheerful sounds she could hear coming from the castle. Why should she celebrate?

_Innocent, they swim_   
_I tell them no_   
_They just dive right in_   
_But do they know_   
_It's a long way down…_   
_When you're alone_

She had, unbeknownst to many, found someone. He had made her time at Hogwarts worth it, even if the first half of their relationship was spent between verbal battles and physical fights. Their constant sparks, they way he always made her heart race, regardless of good or bad, made her years shine just enough to make her smile. Nobody would ever know the reason they fought so much. Nobody would ever know anything that happened in the last two years.

Except him, of course, and that only made her heart falter. He, who so willingly broke through her walls without even trying, walls she had purposely put up to avoid human contact. She was Hermione Granger, world class bookworm, proud know it all, and she didn't need friends. She had Ron, and Harry, and even on occasion Luna or Neville, but she was too smart, too quick, too powerful to be a constant friend. She always needed more, always craved more than what they could give. She felt guilty of it, yes, but there was nothing she could do. It was in her blood, it was who she was. A loner, a solitary witch with a constant thirst for knowledge.

Perhaps that's why they connected. Perhaps, after everything, that's why he managed to step through her barriers and see her for who she was, and not the façade she put on to the world. Because, when it came down to the bareness of it all, he faked it too. He wasn't really an evil person. He hated cruelty. He hated the things his father believed in. He hated the war and all the death and destruction. But he was too cowardly to stand up to it. Just as she was too cowardly to give up the few friends she had made in exchange for her true calling.

But he listened. He listened, even when they didn't speak, because he knew. She needed him, and he needed her, and that is most likely the only reason why she didn't fall apart amidst the long nights and horrible nightmares. And with her, he was able to escape his duty and just be normal.

So that's why she needed him now. She needed him so she could stop staring at the water in disdain, and start crying. She needed him so she had somebody to yell at, somebody to scream with, somebody to hold onto while she broke down. She needed somebody to listen while she cursed those who thought that celebrating was the right thing to do. She needed him to be sitting next to her, staring at the Black Lake in silence, keeping her warm. But he wasn't there.

_And there's no air or sound_   
_Down below, the surface_   
_There's something in the water,_   
_I do not feel safe_   
_It always feels like torture_   
_To be this close_

Hermione was empty. The one person she had relied on through the last two years had betrayed her. He had betrayed her, and all that they had stood for. She had thought that he had changed, and he had done what he did best. He turned and fled, the coward that he was.

Though, she was a coward too, for not chasing after him.

She had let herself believe that he had forgotten his stupid prejudice against her. After all, what they had… it went much deeper than any superficial crush. How could he do that with a prejudice? How could he truly listen, truly care, if he had hated her all along? He couldn't have. At least, Hermione had to believe that. She had to believe he was coming back, because if he didn't… if he didn't, she had no reason left to still be standing.

She loved him. Perhaps she had loved him the entire six years she attended Hogwarts. Don't boys insult girls when they like them? Perhaps their crazy little love/hate relationship was how they showed affection until they were ready for the real thing. Because, when the real thing came, boy it came. No, it was none of the silly flowers or chocolates or cards or cheesy dates that Ron and Lavender went on, nor anything that Hermione had pictured since she was a little girl and read her first fairy tale. Nor was he even remotely close to being a prince charming or a white knight. He was dark, not evil, but dark. And she had loved him.

Still did, Hermione figured. Why shouldn't she? If you love someone, set them free, right? Well, when he walked, she let him. Perhaps it had been foolish. She should've stopped him. She should've made him stay, or at least made him promise to come back. But she didn't. She just let him go.

But if they love you, don't they come back? Isn't that the other half of the saying? She let him go. She cried, and she kicked, and she threw hexes and jinxes and curses like nobody's business, but she let him go. So Hermione definitely loved him. But did he love her back? They had been so close, so close to freedom and he had turned away. Surely that meant he didn't.

But he never said no.

_I wish that I was stronger_   
_I'd separate the waves_   
_Not just let the water_   
_Take me away_

Hermione stood up, walking to the very edge of the Black Lake, but not daring to stray into the water. She was scared, and lonely, and mad, but she was not stupid. It was winter; the chill alone would be enough to kill her, let alone any creature that was around.

Not that she hadn't taken risks before. Her whole life had been one huge risk. She was always stepping above and beyond expectations, leaving everyone behind in the dust while she fought for something new to ease her troubled heart. She had to push herself beyond the limits, she had to be the best, she had to excel, she had to be amazing. What else was she good at? She was no beauty. She was no socialite, and as he had made it clear, she was certainly not wanted among the wizarding community.

But then she had to push past that, because she was Hermione. She needed to be the best, and she needed to prove him wrong. And so she befriended him, and she loved him, and they were as happy as anyone could be in a time of war and secrets. They had been a secret. She had been his secret. That was her biggest risk yet. Lies to her friends, lies to the world, lies to herself. She needed him, and she was willing to risk her life to keep him.

And now he had left her. She had taken the risk, jumped off the edge hoping somebody would save her, and the only one around had turned his back while she fell. And now she swore she would never take risks again. Books were safe. Confined to books, she would never be harmed. Nobody would notice. It was normal for her. The only person who would've was gone.

Hermione subconsciously took a step, hardly noticing as her foot hit cold water, the murky black lake creeping through her sneaker and instantly chilling her foot.

_There was a time I'd dip my feet_   
_And it would roll off my skin_   
_Now every time I get close to the edge_   
_I'm scared of falling in_

She hated the look in his eyes when he saw her that day. She hated him. She hated his hair, his eyes, he clothes, the way he spoke, his voice. She hated everything that made him **him**. He had betrayed her. And all the things she thought they had vanished at the look in his eyes. She hated him.

He had never wanted her. He was using her as a ploy, just someone to keep the time while he plotted his escape. He was evil. He was cruel. He was a terrible person, and she wanted nothing more than to rid herself of him. She could feel his touch, feel his eyes on her, and she wanted to burn it all off. He had betrayed her! She had trusted him!

He had just stood there while she had been branded for all eternity. He had just stood there, watching, while all the hate his kind felt towards her was put on display. He just stood there, doing nothing, while she was tortured. His eyes had been blank. Not cursed blank. Not brainwashed blank. Indifferent blank. He hadn't cared. He hadn't cared about her. He had watched while years and years of prejudice and malice were taken out on her, and he had stood watch, not a single caring thought passing his mind.

And she hated him. He could have saved her. He could have stopped the permanent scarring of her arm. He could have told the onlookers exactly what he had explained to her many months prior. But apparently, he had lied to her. He hadn't really wanted to back out. He hadn't really renounced he prejudice. He hadn't loved her.

If he had, he wouldn't have let them do it.

She had been left on her own, left to heal, left to harden, left to forget. She had been left alone, as she often found was her situation. She had been left alone when he had promised he would never leave her. She refused to feel sorry for herself.

Hermione barely felt the icy chill of the Black Lake as it reached her knees, soaking her jeans and promising her relief. Promising her comfort.

_'Cause I don't want to be_   
_Stranded again on my own_   
_When the tide comes in_   
_And pulls me below, the surface_

She wanted to forget everything. She wanted to forget all the pain she felt from his treachery. She wanted to forget all the ones that had been killed or lost in the war. She wanted to forget her place, so she could fall back into nothingness and nobody would notice. How could she though? How could she just forget?

The water was up to her waist now, lapping gently, greedily at the hem of her shirt. Already the entire lower half of her body was numb, but her heart was as well so she hardly cared to notice. The promise of silence, of a grief-less sleep was all she need to keep moving forward, wand laying somewhere on the shore. Who needed her? Who was left for her? What could she do?

She was the brightest witch of her age, but what good did it do if it could not solve even the simplest of her problems? What good was it if it could not take away her heartache, make her happy, make her feel like she belonged? What good was it if it only served as a reminder of who she was and why she didn't fit in? What good was magic in the first place, if all it did was hurt and cause pain and suffering?

She wanted nothing to do with it, nothing at all. She wanted calm, and silence, and numbness. She didn't want a reminder of him. He was brilliant, beautiful, magical. He was wonderful, everything she had ever possibly dreamed of. And she hated it, and she hated him, and she hated magic.

She was always the smart one, the logical one, the prepared one. But she wasn't prepared for his love. And she wasn't prepared for his secrets. And she most certainly wasn't prepared for his betrayal. Her body, on the other hand, was, and as it continued lowering itself into the murky lake, it knew exactly what it was doing. After all, it was the body of the brightest witch.

_There's something in the water_   
_I do not feel safe_   
_It always feels like torture_   
_To be this close_

Hermione stared up at the light above her. Mind numb, she didn't really notice she wasn't breathing, nor did she realize that she was sinking further and further beneath the surface of the water. The only thing she saw was the hazy light, and how it seemed to be growing farther and farther away. She half reached for it, expending a little air as she lightly laughed, the thought of breathing in never occurring to her, nor did the thought that she was slowly running out of air. To Hermione, the moment was dreamy and she felt like she was floating, and she was enjoying it.

Somewhere, deep down inside her, she knew that something was terribly wrong. Somewhere, a somewhere she was locking up with the reserve of her strength, there was a last ditch attempt at sanity, a plea to save herself, to see that nothing was lost. That little voice in the back of her head was scratching awfully hard on the door she had shut it behind, begging for mercy, begging for her to see what she was doing to herself before it was too late. Somewhere, she knew she was going to die.

But those somewheres were lost as the light above her faded and she let her eyes flutter shut, drifting off into a world where things had gone her way. A world where everything made sense, he had saved her from her scar, the war had ended with few casualties, her parents knew her face. A world where she was happy. A world in which she belonged.

She sunk down into the water, the Black Lake accepting her as if she had always been a part of it. She did not fight. She did not cry. She just let go.

_I wish that I was stronger_   
_I'd separate the waves_   
_Not just let the water_   
_Take me away…_

She never saw the shadow at the edge of the lake, desperately seeking her figure out beneath the surface. When the shadow couldn't see her, it jumped in after her. she never felt the splash, never saw the tears on the face of the body that reached for her, pulling her back towards the light. She was too far gone. She couldn't feel as she was carried from the deathly waters. She never even heard the word that would save her.

'Enervate.'

Hermione suddenly felt heavy and cold. The weight of life crashed down on her, waking her from her dreamy stupor. No longer was she happy and light and free. Now she was back in reality, and shivering, and she wanted nothing more than to curl in a ball and die as her body reminded her of what she had done. She fought to get air in her lungs, coughing and sputtering out mouthfuls of water, and was greatly surprised when something warm fell over her body. Half-alive and barely awake, she dared open her eyes, squinting up at the person who had saved her from the person she hated most.

Reaching a hand up, she shakily cupped his cheek, all hatred disappearing on the spot. She was not dead. And neither was he. And he had  _saved_  her. He had saved her.

"Draco?"

**Author's Note:**

> If this gets enough notice, I may rewrite it as if she'd died. I'd wanted to do that this time around, but I ended up... not...


End file.
